The First Conception_Rise of Eris

by Nesly Clerge

  “You funded all of this by yourself?” I asked. “Contributions can’t be that great, or are they?”

  “A good portion comes from me, but not all. I’m not the only member with extensive funds.”

  She repeated the identification process in front of the screen at the left of the door, which slid open.

  I followed her inside, mouth agape at the even more advanced equipment and computers the room contained, minus test tubes and beakers. “What goes on in here?”

  “Ultra-secret projects.” She gestured toward the computers and the women who sat focused on whatever they viewed on the monitors. “You’re looking at some of the best programmers in the world.”

  “What are they working on?”

  “They’re also some of the best hackers.” She smiled.

  “Was your avoidance deliberate?”

  “Sorry. Some of them are hacking government computers. Others are doing various research or addressing particular concerns.”

  My feet stopped moving. “Aren’t you terrified their activities will be traced to you?”

  “They explained why I shouldn’t worry, but did it in their unique lingo. Once I got them to use words I could understand, they explained it as a buffer in a buffer to the two-hundredth power, whatever that means.” She faced me. “Now that you’ve seen what’s going on, what do you think?”

  “Lao-tzu said, ‘He who knows others is wise, but he who knows himself is enlightened.’”

  “And that means what to you at this moment?”

  “That I know myself. That I know I want to be an integral part of your revolution. And I want to do something great, something no one has as yet done.”

  “Such as?”

  I shook my head. “I have an idea but it’s only a seed. That seed was planted a long time ago. But right now, I feel as though a light switch just went on, more like a dimmer switch, really, that’s been adjusted up a notch to a slightly brighter level of illumination.”

  “What kind of seed?”

  “I’m not entirely certain as yet, other than it will put men in their proper place. But using your words, I’ve just been presented with a cornucopia of potential options.”

  Patricia laughed. “I knew you’d respond this way.”

  “Is the door in your office the only way in or out?”

  “There is one other way, but only a very few people who work down here know about it. It’s for emergencies only—the dire kind. Otherwise, the rooms are fire-proofed. I also had living quarters set up down here. Everything they need or want is delivered to them.”

  “It doesn’t bother them to stay down here?”

  “These women are basically hermits-on-purpose. Everyone’s happy with the arrangements.”

  “I can understand that, considering the state of the world under male domination.” I faced her. “When do I get my facial recognition set up?”

  “I love your enthusiasm, and your level of commitment. Follow me.”

  CHAPTER 52

  The single disappointment I had regarding moving up at WAM was that, although Patricia integrated my face into the recognition program and gave me the code, she insisted I wait until I was further along in my studies to use the science lab. I was, however, free to access both private labs anytime I wished, as an observer primarily, and was allowed to speak with the women there, as long as I didn’t interrupt their projects or annoy them with too many questions.

  She didn’t need to worry. My desire to progress in my studies kept me busy and focused, so busy that I had to reduce my hours at WAM.

  Classes and labs filled my days as instructors crammed fundamentals of the art and science of medicine and patient care into our brains. There was also massive, early preparation for the first licensing examination we were required to pass prior to proceeding to our third and fourth years of medical school.

  Another time-occupier was my willingness to take advantage of the practice tests offered by the National Board of Medical Examiners. These tests were designed to increase our chances of passing Step 1 of the United States Medical Licensing Examination. It wasn’t that I was concerned about my ability to pass, I merely wished to speed my completion time, like improving running speed in order to shave several significant seconds off a racing score.

  Each time prior to Jenni taking the practice tests, she’d spend longer and longer hours attempting to stuff more information into her brain. I took this as a sign that she wasn’t doing well. The point of the tests was to help us identify our strengths and what needed improvement. If appearances indicated fact, she needed a great deal of improvement.

  “You really need to get more sleep,” I told her one morning. “You have raccoon eyes and bags you could pack things in. Besides, an exhausted brain can’t function as well as a rested one.”

  “Shut up! You think it’s easy having you snooze away while I pour over books and notes all night?”

  “I’ve told you a number of times that I’m willing to help you.”

  “Yeah. You’ll help me. Right out of medical school.”

  “Ouch. Why would you even think that?”

  “Just leave me the hell alone. Everything comes too damn easy for you.”

  “If you had any idea how wrong … Nevermind. I’m wasting my breath.”

  “And taking up too much of mine. Insufferable bitch.”

  Poor Jenni. It was painful to watch her grapple with herself as well as the material. It was even more painful when I, well rested, passed Step 1 of the USMLE with the highest, and perfect, score and Jenni failed. That is, if you consider her refusal to speak to me painful or a disadvantage. With the exception of her slamming every door for weeks, the silence was welcome.

  Patricia threw a party to celebrate my passing that first exam and moving into my third year. She invited Brenda, Agatha, and Connie. A small, intimate gathering of those of us who knew at least some of my darkest secrets.

  She treated us to fine dining in the best restaurant in the area, followed by brandy for them, tea for me, in her office.

  “Although we miss having you around as much,” she said, “we know it’s temporary. And we’re so proud of you.”

  They raised their snifters, I raised my cup and said, “It should be a more productive year. Aside from classes, I’ll rotate through fundamental specialties required of students. I anticipate it being engaging, but I won’t be able to choose rotations in areas that interest me until the fourth year.”

  Agatha asked, “Any early idea about a specialty?”

  I shook my head. “So much captivates me. But I’ll figure it out eventually. In the meantime, this is more fun than I’ve had in a while.”

  Connie chuckled. I looked at her and she winked.

  I checked the time. “I need to get going. However, there is one thing I’d like to ask of you before I, or we, call it a night. Come with me to Caitlin’s tree?”

  Brenda said, “Of course,” and drained her glass. The others did the same.

  Minutes later, we stood in the moonlight before the young tree that was growing taller and stronger. A soft breeze wafted over us, shifting the laurel leaves. For a brief moment, the sword earring glinted in the cool light.

  The four women encircled me with their arms. We stood there in silence. It wasn’t that we had no words, it was that we each had too many.

  Five women. Five friends. Untold measures of pain.

  Abigail called me during the evening before the last day of the fall semester. The interruption annoyed Jenni, which caused me to answer the phone with a lighter tone than I might otherwise have.

  “K, were you planning to come here for the holidays?”

  “I’m staying here.”

  “That’s a relief.”

  “Glad I could make your day.”

  She giggled. “I didn’t mean it that way. Hubby-Buns has a cousin in Montana. He invited us to spend Christmas through New Year’s Day there.”

  “That should be fun.”

&n
bsp; She yawned. “I guess. I’m not into all that wide-open-space stuff.”

  “Sounds serene, restful.”

  “That’s so not my thing.”

  “I’m certain you’ll make the best of it.”

  “I suppose.”

  “Life isn’t always a party, Abigail.”

  “It should be.”

  Jenni slammed her book closed, turned around in her chair and faced me. “Can you please end that inane conversation so I can think straight?”

  I bit the inside of my cheek to keep myself from making the remark that very much wanted to escape. “Abigail, I need to go. Enjoy Montana and the holidays.”

  I ended the call and said, “Better?”

  Jenni faced forward and opened a different book. “A slug has a more interesting life than you do.”

  Some things are better left unsaid.

  CHAPTER 53

  I woke shortly after nine on the morning of the first day of Christmas break. Aside from attention on my studies during the prior months, I’d also given thought to what I wanted to do during this three-and-a-half-week interval. Many ideas were toyed with, but one particular idea continued to behave like a splinter in my thoughts.

  I pulled the comforter to my chin and folded my arms behind my head, eyes affixed to an unseen point on the ceiling as I pondered how I might accomplish such a task.

  My phone jangled, which caused Jenni, also in bed, to curse and bury her head under her stack of pillows. It was Patricia.

  Before I had a chance to say more than hello, she said, “Let me treat you to brunch.”

  “Sounds good to me. There’s something I want to discuss with you.”

  “I’ll pick you up at eleven.”

  I stayed in bed until ten. As Jenni remained buried in a tangle of her bedspread, sheets, and pillows, my shower was a leisurely one, with it being my turn to use up the hot water.

  Patricia was waiting out front as I exited the dorm, though it took honking at me to recognize her in the new silver Jaguar. I slid onto the heated leather seat.

  Dressed in head-to-toe red, she said, “It’s my Christmas present to myself. I deserved it.”

  “And so much more.” I leaned over and kissed her cheek. “I’m embarrassed to say I have no idea what to get you, nor will it likely be up to your standards.”

  She put the car in gear and eased through the parking lot and onto the street. “There’s only one thing I want as a gift from you. Spend Christmas day with me.” She glanced at me. “Unless you have other plans.”

  “I don’t. Gift granted.”

  We chatted about insignificant matters as we drove to a new bistro. Patricia had reserved a table near the small fireplace with logs that crackled and flames that cast an amber glow over us.

  After the server delivered our food and left, Patricia leaned forward, resting her crossed forearms on the table. “What did you want to discuss?”

  “Maybe it isn’t a proper topic while we eat.”

  Her eyebrows went up and she grinned. “Then I insist you tell me.”

  “I so admire your courage.”

  “Back at you.”

  I lowered my voice. “I want to call in a few debts. They’ve gone unpaid for too long.”

  “Keep going.”

  “The first one is Buster, if he’s even still alive. For all I know, some woman braver than my mother paid him back in full for his abuse. Only, I don’t know how to go about locating him, though he may still be in Chicago. I can’t imagine he motivated himself to move out of the city. I guess the thing to do is ask Connie.”

  “You said there are a few. Who else is on your radar?”

  “That one is more complicated. I told you I had suspicions only about—”

  “I remember.”

  We sat back and stayed silent as the waiter delivered our salads.

  Once alone again, I said, “There are others, but because of the specific circumstances, they deserve lesser punishments. I’ll have to track them down too, but later.”

  Patricia waved her hand holding the fork. “I can help with all of that.”

  “How?”

  “Really, Katherine. Push pause on your emotions and think. I don’t have a special staff for no reason.”

  “You’d let me employ their skills? Beyond just Connie?”

  “That’s part of why they’re there. Trust me. They’d be delighted. I know their histories, which I won’t share.”

  “I won’t ask. Can we get started right away?”

  Patricia laughed. “How about we finish eating first?”

  I laughed with her. “I’ve waited this long. I can last a few minutes more.” Another thought came to me. “Even if we find Buster, I’ll have to travel to Chicago, if that’s where he is, and find a place to stay. The cost may be more than I can manage. If you authorize it, I can work extra hours at headquarters during this break, though that means waiting to deal with him until spring break or maybe longer.”

  She rested her hand atop mine. “You weren’t the only one unsure of what to give as a gift. All expenses will be mine, no matter how long it takes or what it takes.”

  I shook my head. “I can’t accept. It’s too much.”

  “You must. You owe it to all of us to let us share in justice being served. Not all of us have had or ever will have the satisfaction. Or the nerve.”

  My eyes filled and I choked up too much to speak.

  Patricia retrieved a tissue from her purse and handed it to me. “Everything happens for a reason, Katherine, including my having the wherewithal to do what I can for other women. It’s my choice how to use my money. You want to do great things with your skills and talents, and you want to do them for WAM and for women. I have full faith that you will. Let me do whatever will help get you there.”

  Unable to speak in response to her generosity, I nodded my agreement then melted into a puddle of tears.

  I felt a fresh tissue being pressed into my hand, and I smiled between sobs.

  CHAPTER 54

  Minutes before noon the following day, I burst into Patricia’s office. “They found Buster. He’s still in Chicago. Now I have to figure out how to get there.” I paced in front of her desk. “So many details to work out and in what now feels like a brief expanse of time.”

  “I’m not about to let you do this alone.”

  I halted my steps. “I refuse to involve you.”

  Patricia picked up her phone receiver, punched a few numbers in, and said, “Only thing I’m going to contribute is resources, including financial.” She held up a finger to silence me and said into the phone, “My office. Pronto.”

  I suppose I should have guessed who was on the other end of that brisk conversation, but my excitement was too great. So was my relief when Connie bustled into the room.

  Connie hugged me and said, “Season’s greetings, all. What’s up?”

  Patricia unlocked her middle desk drawer and said, “Hold on. I’ll tell you in a moment.” She unlocked a small metal box tucked inside the drawer, counted out five thousand dollars in hundreds, fifties, and twenties, and handed the bills to Connie.

  Connie tucked the money into an inside zippered jacket pocket. “Where am I going this time, when, and why?”

  “Chicago, immediately, and you won’t be alone. You and Katherine are to get in and get out as fast as possible. Use aliases. That amount should cover all expenses and your time. If it doesn’t, let me know. Katherine will fill you in on the why.”

  Connie nodded and said to me, “Let’s go. We’ve got arrangements to make.”

  I followed her through the panel door and down to the ultra-secret room three levels below ground. As we made our way, I asked why that was our destination.

  “Our techs will arrange our flights, hotel rooms, and a rental car. They also need to set us up with authentic phony IDs and the all-important et cetera. When we’re done with all of that, you can tell me why we’re heading to the Big Onion.”

  “You
’ll likely figure it out when I give the techs the information they’ll need.”

  “Probably. But with you, there’s always more to the story.”

  The efficiency of WAM’s operatives wowed me. Two sets of false IDs for each of us were set up, as were matching credit cards and bank accounts with histories going back a reasonable number of years, along with phony current balances. Then the creation of other data usually found in the system, in case someone in an official capacity decided to check up on us for any reason. Once these steps were completed, all reservations were made under the first set of our new names. As I said, efficient, and took two techs two hours each to complete the tasks, using programs they’d created.

  We were assured our licenses and credit cards were identical to real ones in current use. Connie became a waitress who resided in Arkansas. I, a school teacher, now hailed from Mississippi.

  Connie tapped me on the shoulder. “Let’s go to my office.”

  I went with her to a locked door on the fifth floor. Once inside, she pointed to a chair, which I lowered into.

  “Okay,” she said, “start talking.”

  I filled her in on life with Buster, every last detail, as well as his current address and information about that part of town, the latter provided by the techs the day before. The light outside her window had started to fade by the time I sat back and waited for her to say something.

  She picked up a pen and doodled on a tablet. Finally, she said, “You plan to have all the fun or will you let me share it?”

  “Up to you. If you want to participate more than you already will be—”

  “You bet your ass I do. It pisses me off when any sonofabitch abuses a woman. But a kid? That shit makes me feral.”

  “Feral is something Buster can relate to.”

  “I’ll relate his ass. Right off the planet.”

  Buster wouldn’t know what hit him, but he’d darn well know who.

  CHAPTER 55